


Bitter Cold

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Banter, Christmas Isn't Canon, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Mentions of Garcy, Platonic Relationships, Some Wyjess, Unwilling Friendship, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 17:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17812328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: He hated everything. He hated everyone. (Except Lucy, of course, but that was a given.) And he absolutely hated Wyatt Logan.This did, of course, make the fact that he was currently fighting his way through a blizzard to find the man a little hard to explain.





	Bitter Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elisexyz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/gifts).



> I had so much fun writing this, guys. I hope you enjoy reading it. This is a prompt fill for Bad Things Happen Bingo: "Hypothermia." 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

He hated everything. He hated everyone. (Except Lucy, of course, but that was a given.) And he absolutely hated Wyatt Logan.

This did, of course, make the fact that he was currently fighting his way through a blizzard to find the man a little hard to explain. 

Icy winds whipped past him, as snow clung to his coat, his face, anywhere it could reach. He wasn’t even sure he was cold anymore, could barely feel anything at all, but still, he kept moving. Chose to focus on his irritation with Wyatt for getting lost in the snow, rather than the stinging in his eyes or the chill settled deep in his bones. What was Wyatt even doing out here, anyway? He’d been interrogating a Rittenhouse agent, and suddenly, he’d just taken off, disappearing into the woods without a word. 

Typical. They should have just left him there. But no, he’d tucked Rufus and Lucy away in the Lifeboat and started tracking him down. So really, who was the fool here?

He could hardly breathe, but he was wary of stopping, unsure if he’d be able to force himself to start again if he did. Drowsiness was starting to wash over him, and all he could think was how soft the snow looked, how easy it would be to just-

“Flynn!” 

Automatically, he started toward the voice, ready to give Wyatt a piece of his mind for getting them into such a dangerous situation, when it registered: That was not Wyatt’s voice. It was a woman’s, and he had a sinking suspicion of who she was. 

Sure enough, in the next second, he caught sight of an all-too-familiar figure just in front of him, bracing herself against the whipping winds: Jessica Logan. 

_ Wyatt, you absolute idiot. _

He drew his gun, a bit slower than he would have liked, but the cold left his muscles stiff and lagging. She didn’t retaliate, just kept her hands in the air. And he should have shot her right then-he  _ knew  _ that-but his gaze fell to her stomach for half a second. It was still too soon, she still wasn’t showing, and he couldn’t be sure, but-

Well. That was the size of it, wasn’t it? He couldn’t be sure.

Apparently deciding that he wasn’t going to shoot her on sight, she shouted, “Please! He’s hurt.” 

There was only one ‘he’ she could possibly mean, and against his will, his stomach dropped.  _ No, I didn’t fight my way through this storm just for you to die on me before I get to gripe you out, Logan. You’d better be alive.  _

Of course, it could very well have been a trap. It had all the makings of one. But he couldn’t afford to risk it. 

He gestured ahead with his gun. “Lead the way.” 

She didn’t seem entirely thrilled that he hadn’t lowered his weapon, but he didn’t know what to tell her. He wasn’t about to walk into something like this with his guard down. In any case, she hesitated only a moment before she took off, so fast he could hardly keep up. Once, he nearly slipped, and she slowed her pace slightly, but only slightly. 

“He’s here,” she called finally, and sure enough, in the next instant, he saw him: Wyatt Logan, laying in the snow. The man grunted weakly when he saw Flynn, but otherwise didn’t respond, and the panic clawing inside grew. 

Taking a breath, he tucked his gun back into the holster. “What happened?” He asked, half-hoping Wyatt would answer. (It wouldn’t be fun to scold him if he was unconscious, after all.) 

No such luck. 

Jessica cleared her throat. “I was lost. He came after me, but he tripped. His ankle, it… It doesn’t look good. He can’t get up.” 

For a single second, he debated his options. Found he had none, aside from turning his back on the Rittenhouse agent trying to save her husband. And gave in, kneeling beside Wyatt’s form. Carefully, he inspected the ankle, and winced.  _ Definitely broken.  _ His mind raced, desperately trying to find a way to avoid the truth he already knew. There was no way Wyatt could walk in this state, and if he stayed out here, he’d freeze to death. Flynn could try to drag him back to the Lifeboat, but it was so far away, and he wasn’t even sure of what direction. If he could see clearly for more than a foot ahead of him, it might have been different, but he couldn’t. 

There was no way to save him.

Wyatt Logan was going to die.

He rose, meeting Jessica’s eyes, already debating his next steps, (because he couldn’t help Wyatt, but he could save his wife, and maybe his child. This, at least, he could give the man,) but she shook her head firmly.

“There’s a cabin,” she told him, not even letting him get a word in edgewise. “It’s close. I know the way, but I can’t carry him.” 

Fierce determination burned in her eyes, and he knew if he didn’t help her, she’d try to drag Wyatt there himself. Probably get them all killed in the process. (Of course, if he did help her, there was a good chance they’d die anyway. But then, he knew that was a possibility when he started this trek, didn’t he?) 

“Okay,” he told her, scooping Wyatt up and tossing him over his shoulder with a groan. The man was not light. Wyatt whimpered, just conscious enough to feel the pain, maybe, and Flynn winced. “I know it hurts,” he muttered. “Hang in there. I still have to yell at you.” 

Jessica didn’t hesitate this time, just started off. Hopefully she knew where she was going, he mused, as he took his first step forward. Pain jolted through him, his joints already protesting without the added weight of another person, but he gritted his teeth, powering through. When this was over, Wyatt was going to owe him, big-time. 

The walk was, to say the least, miserable. Every step was torture, and the time seemed to run together, seconds and minutes and hours all a meaningless blur. (Had it been hours? Could it have been? Surely not. Hopefully not; he wasn’t sure Wyatt could survive that.) Once or twice, he lost sight of Jessica, and he stopped breathing entirely until she doubled back, frantically gesturing for him to hurry.

Finally, finally, they reached the cabin. It was worn, but sturdy, and while he would have killed for central heating, this at least looked like it would block out the winds. Jessica held the door open, and he stumbled in, immediately depositing Wyatt by the fireplace. For the moment, at least, it wasn’t burning, but he’d have to change that soon if they wanted to make it through the storm.

“How can I help?” Jessica asked, arms crossed firmly over her chest. He had so many questions, but they didn’t have the luxury of discussing what side she was on just then; she had to at least be on the side of her own survival. 

Swallowing, he looked around.One room, but decently sized, at least. There was a stack of firewood, a few cushions piled on the floor that must have acted as a bed, and scattered piles of cloth throughout. “Find all of the blankets and pillows you can,” he instructed. “And a change of clothes, if possible.” Hopefully whoever lived there wouldn’t come home any time soon. For the moment, at least, it seemed abandoned. 

She nodded, and set to work, gathering the blankets. He was loathe to turn his back to her, but he knew his next step had to be that fireplace. Slowly, he set to work, stacking the wood inside.

It almost didn’t start, but he was nothing if not stubborn. (And more than a little desperate.) Eventually, a small flame caught up, and soon they had a roaring fire.

“Good work,” Jessica said softly, and he turned to face her. She had four dusty blankets in hand, and she was wearing new clothes, a loose-fitting shirt and pants rolled up several times. “There’s more over there,” she added, gesturing to the outfit. 

Wonderful; he could finally get out of these icy clothes. “Stack the blankets over him,” he told her, gesturing to Wyatt. “And cuddle up.” At her startled expression, he rolled his eyes. “He needs body heat. Last time I checked, you do have a body, right?” 

She seemed briefly torn between being annoyed and moving on, but in the end, concern seemed to win out, and she nodded, turning back to Wyatt and lowering the blankets onto him. Quickly, he located the pile of clothes, and changed. While they were far too large for Jessica, they were definitely small on him, but wearable, and much drier than what he had been wearing. 

By the time he rejoined the Logans, Jessica was underneath the blankets with Wyatt, snuggled into his side. The younger man was starting to stir, which was both a relief and a pity. He’d passed out at some point during the trek, which was definitely a red flag, but if he was regaining consciousness, he’d soon be regaining pain. Still, for the moment, at least, Wyatt was gazing at Jessica was such soft tenderness, Flynn suspected he didn’t truly believe she was there.

Or maybe he did. Maybe he’d already forgiven her for everything she’d done to the team. 

He settled in front of the fire, a few inches away from the snuggling Logans, and Jessica scoffed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ah… Warming up?” It wasn’t that he didn’t know what she was getting at, of course not. It was just, his pride was one of the few things he had left in this world, and the idea of squeezing in under the blankets with them, of  _ sharing body heat  _ with them, of all people…

Well, that would obliterate his pride completely. 

But apparently, she was having none of it. “I can’t carry him out of here, so you don’t get to die. Get over here.” 

“Y’know,” he grumbled, “if I hadn’t shown up, you’d both still be freezing to death. You could at least thank me.” Still, he looked back, examining his options. He could either slide in beside Jessica, who was still technically Rittenhouse, or… Or….

He shuddered. Of course, it probably would be best for Wyatt to be surrounded by body heat anyway, but still.  _ Still.  _ Oh, Lucy was never going to let him hear the end of this.

With a groan, he slipped under the blankets, nudging Wyatt over slightly. Immediately, he was struck by the warmth; between Wyatt and Jessica, the little cocoon they’d made was much cozier than the room around it. But half his leg was still sticking out, and there was only one way to remedy that. He shifted just a bit closer to Wyatt, who was apparently just awake enough to stare at him, baffled. 

_ Trust me, I can’t explain it either. _

Unwillingly, he found himself relaxing, the panic draining from him slightly. Maybe they would make it through this after all. (Of course, surviving the cold was only half the battle, but it was probably the more difficult half.) 

Jessica shivered, and Flynn studied her. Wyatt’s clothes were still soaked, and there was nothing they could do about that. They couldn’t afford to jostle his ankle anymore than they already had. But all the while, that cold must have been seeping into Jessica’s skin. And she’d allow it, perhaps, to keep Wyatt warm, but…

For the next mission, they were going somewhere hot. A volcano, maybe. 

He tugged the blankets, pulling them off of Jessica entirely. She yelped, then turned her fiercest glare on him, but he simply gestured for her to come around. “Come here.” Her eyes widened then, in something almost wary. 

Was he really going to have to spell this out?

“I’m the biggest person here. That means I have the most body heat. I need to be in the center, so neither of you freeze to death. Because that would be very irritating.”

Silence. She considered his words, maybe weighing his motives, before sighing, making her way around, and gingerly crawling in beside him. Immediately, some of the tension drained from her, and she made a soft, contented noise in the back of her throat. Unlike him, she didn’t hesitate to snuggle in, putting her head on his shoulder, and reaching across his waist to catch Wyatt’s hand.

He tensed, briefly, even as he understood what she was doing: drawing as close as possible to the heat source beside her.

“This was your idea,” she grumbled. “Don’t go making it weird.”

Seriously? “There is  _ nothing  _ about this situation that isn’t weird,” he hissed. 

To his surprise, she chuckled. “Touche.” She pressed her feet against his leg, and he mentally apologized to Lorena for ever complaining about her cold feet. Jessica’s truly felt like they were made of ice, probably from standing in it for so long. He winced, but didn’t pull away.

On his right, Wyatt had apparently decided that potential warmth outweighed the potential awkwardness, because he dropped his head to Flynn’s other shoulder, mumbling something Flynn couldn’t quite understand. Probably something along the lines of “I hate you,” knowing him. And yet, between the crackling of the fireplace, the warm weights on either side of him, and the thick blankets covering him, something peaceful washed over him. Maybe this would be tolerable. As long as they stayed quiet….

“Seen any good movies lately?” Jessica’s words seemed odd. Sluggish, almost. Still, he scowled down at her. She glared right back. “We’re falling asleep. I’m not an expert on hypothermia, but even I know that’s not good. So we need to talk.” 

Reluctantly, he had to acknowledge that she had a point. “You could always tell me what Emma’s planning,” he pointed out.

“True. And you could tell me what your team is planning to do to stop her.” 

Right. So business talk was out, then. “Been a little busy to watch movies.” He considered. “Wyatt had some western on the other day. Starring… Gary Cooper, I think.”

“John Wayne,” Wyatt grumbled. 

He knew that, of course, but he wanted to make sure Wyatt stayed awake. For him, more than any of them, sleep was dangerous. “Whatever.” No reason to tell the Logans about how he grew up on westerns, could recite most of the older ones by heart. They had to talk. Didn’t mean it had to matter. “It was okay.” 

Jessica laughed weakly. “Careful. He’ll never forgive you for that.”

“I’ll add it to the list.” He wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not, and he wasn’t particularly interested in soul-searching. “What about you? Does the plan for world domination include Netflix?” 

“And dental,” she shot back. “I’ve been watching a lot of superhero movies. Trying to get caught up, you know?” She paused, considering. “You guys are probably even more behind than me. How long have you been living in that bunker?” 

“Awhile.” And prison before that, and life on the run before _ that. _ He couldn’t even remember the last new movie he’d seen. Probably Frozen, actually; his daughter had been so excited about Elsa. (Just about then, he could have strangled Elsa, but that was another story.) 

A sharp elbow to his side startled him from his thoughts. “Watch it!” 

“You were falling asleep.” Jessica shrugged, unrepentant. “Had to wake you up somehow.”

Was he? That was more than a little unnerving. He hadn’t noticed himself fading, but now that she mentioned it, she was right. Quickly, he glanced down at Wyatt, whose eyes had once again drifted shut. “You know something, Wyatt? Your wife is very annoying.” 

Sure enough, that got a reaction. Not a very coherent one, but a reaction, nonetheless. “Loud. Shhhh.” 

Well, that wasn't going to happen. Apparently, Jessica agreed; before he could say anything, she was squeezing Wyatt's hand, drawing his attention. “We can't sleep yet, okay?” Soft. Tender. Caring. (It was just a bit sickening.) (And, okay, maybe it was a little bit sweet. But the fact that she cared about Wyatt was only going to get them so far once this mess was over, and he couldn't afford to get attached to someone he might have to shoot.) 

“Shhhh,” Wyatt hissed, and oh, Flynn was going to give him a hard time about this once they were safe. “Sleep.” 

It was going to be a long night.

-

“We could have a sing-along.”

“Or we could just freeze to death in silence.” 

“... No singing. Got it.”

-

“Think the storm will be over soon?” 

“I don't know. Let me just check my weather app. Oh, wait.” 

“What, you people don't even bother to Google before you jump? Is Rittenhouse made up completely of idiots?” 

-

“Truth or dare?”

“What, are we fifth graders now?”

_ “Shhhh!”  _

-

“We don't deserve them.” 

The winds had finally died down, as the last flames flickered in the fireplace. Wyatt had finally nodded off, and they hadn’t been able to wake him, but at least he was still breathing. (Snoring, to be exact. Flynn refused to admit he was relieved each time he heard the sound.) They'd have to leave soon, but he was waiting until it was a little lighter outside. Hopefully they'd be able to find their way back. 

Jessica was motionless beside him, waiting for his reply. For a moment, he considered playing dumb, but Lucy flickered through his mind-good and pure and lovely, far too good for him-and he exhaled slowly. There was no point in denying it, not to Jessica, not when she  _ knew  _ what it was like. (They'd both messed up so badly, had hurt so many people fighting for causes they believed in. And it wasn't the same-Rittenhouse was truly evil-but they both hurt people who never deserved it.)

“We don't,” he agreed finally. 

“I love Wyatt.” Defiant, almost. Daring him to argue. 

As if he would. “I believe you,” he said, because it was true. No matter how twisted she was, her love for Wyatt was obviously real. “But will it matter?” He'd been putting off the question, but they needed to deal with it. “When this is all over, and we get Wyatt back to the Lifeboat… You're still going back to Rittenhouse, aren't you?” 

She flinched. “They're my family.” 

And he shouldn’t have been surprised. Shouldn’t have been disappointed. He hadn’t even realized he’d been hoping for a different answer until she had spoken. “Right.” It was just as well. This was the woman who had destroyed Rufus and Jiya’s lives, had betrayed all of them without hesitation. There was no place for her on their team.

(Except… They had found a place for him. After he kidnapped Lucy, after he had Rufus shot, after  _ everything,  _ they still let him into their home.)

“We should get going,” he muttered, shrugging the blankets off. Jessica made a soft noise of disappointment at the loss of warmth, but rose to her feet, tucking the covers around Wyatt as she went. 

The walk to the Lifeboat was almost embarrassingly short. Apparently, he’d gotten so lost in the storm that he’d been walking back toward it. Still, it was a relief, as Wyatt hadn’t magically gotten lighter during the night. Jessica walked ahead, gun raised, though what she was going to do if they ran into Emma, he didn’t dare ask. At the very least, they were probably safe from wild animals. 

When Wyatt was safely deposited in the ship, Flynn turned to Jessica, not quite sure what to say.  _ Thank you for not killing me in the night?   _ “Well,” he began slowly, “This is where we part ways.” 

She hesitated. “You’ll take care of him?” 

A sarcastic retort died on his lips, and he nodded. “We’ll get him fixed right up.” Then, because he couldn’t quite help himself- “I still have to yell at him.”

Her lips twitched, and she nodded at him. “Good. Yell at him for me, too. He shouldn’t have come after me.” 

Before he could muster a response, she vanished back into the woods, and he climbed into the Lifeboat with a sigh. 

“What was that all about?” Rufus frowned, punching in the coordinates for home. (And when had that terrible, miserable place become home? On the bright side, he mused, at least it wouldn’t feel as cold anymore.) 

Later, he would tell them what happened. Later, he would fill them in on everything, and watch the dawning realization that Jessica Logan was not so committed to Rittenhouse as she once seemed. Later, when he was strong enough to hold Lucy up, he would tell them how Jessica still loved her husband, and he suspected that story was far from over.

But for the moment, he simply closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the seat. “If I ever see Elsa,” he muttered, “I’m going to light her on fire.” 

-

He did not yell at Wyatt. 

He had planned on it, had all but written his speech out. Stupidity, recklessness, unnecessary team endangerment… He had the whole spiel memorized. But when Wyatt woke, Jessica’s name on his lips and tears in his eyes, every ounce of Flynn’s resolve faded. 

“Not here.” 

Wyatt’s face fell, and Flynn hesitated. He could tell him how Jessica had taken care of him the night before, how she had let them go so that he would be safe. Maybe he deserved to know. But that would be  _ caring,  _ and it wasn’t like Wyatt was  _ dying, _ not anymore, and-

Before he could decide, Wyatt’s brows furrowed. “Flynn?”

“Hm?”

“Did we…” A disturbed look crossed his face. “Cuddle?” 

Not quite able to stifle a chuckle, he shook his head. “Definitely not. You must’ve been having really strange dreams.” 

“More like nightmares,” Wyatt muttered, letting his eyes fall shut once more. “But, uh… Thanks. For saving me.” 

“Yes, well,” Flynn sighed, settling back in his seat, “I still have to yell at you.” 

Garcia Flynn hated everything, and everyone, except Lucy. But he especially hated the way this team was making it impossible for him to hate them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!! Also, about the ending... I don't know what happened. Some angst slipped into my humor fic. Raise your hand if you're surprised.


End file.
